


Hearth and Home

by Companionable



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Family Fluff, Family Issues, Gen, Thanksgiving Dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:57:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2697155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Companionable/pseuds/Companionable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Will living full-time at the brownstone, Xephos figures it's high time he had a proper welcome, and hosts the Thanksgiving dinner of his dreams. What follows is Will's best effort to get comfortable with the family he was unceremoniously thrust into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearth and Home

**Author's Note:**

> another foray into the urban magic yogs au that got wildly out of hand thanks to a few choice hot potato handlers. many thanks to my cheerleading squad, in particular summer and lucy for last minute encouragements. i hope it gives you the fuzzies you need around the holidays.

Mornings at the brownstone are usually hectic, Will has come to understand that.

He also understands that, more often than not, the chaos is manufactured by his uncle, because Xephos truly believes he is the man to do everything.

“Honey! Oh, for Gods’ sake, come here you little rascal!”

“Xephos, please, I’m about to be late for work! If I’m late for work, I’m late for dinner; if I’m late for dinner, dinner gets delayed, you go mental, Lalna kills you to save us, then we’re forced to eat your flesh to survive and it all goes to shit.” Honeydew looks up from where he’s carefully braiding talismans into his beard in the front hall mirror to give Xephos a most imploring look, sparing a hand to grip his wrist. “Don’t put us through that, sapphire.”

Will is standing at the top of the stairs, watching the spectacle with fascination. Xephos leans in to help Honeydew braid more charms into his beard, then presses two kisses to the apples of his cheeks and one to his lips. Honeydew merely presents his face for kissing with a look of fond exasperation. “Have a good day, be safe, don’t get lost,” the man says fondly, and Will feels a tug like magic on the chords of his own at the words, as if Xephos were invoking some ancient incantation. Which is strange, because Will knows a fair number of ancient incantations, and that certainly isn’t one of them.

Barrelling in from the kitchen almost as soon as the door closes, Lalna grabs for his coat as he takes a bite of a breakfast sandwich Honeydew made for him, shoving his arms into it hastily. “Bye, Xephos! Bye, Will!” he shouts around a mouthful, wrapping a hand around the doorknob.

“Hey, hey!” Xephos says with force, catching Lalna’s attention. Will descends the stairs and heads for the kitchen, but he watches as his uncle draws the other man in towards him. “Can’t leave the house without one of these, mister.”

Lalna screws up his face as Xephos kisses him on both cheeks, then on the forehead. “Jesus, Dad, Will’s right there, can you tone it down a bit?”

The witch ruffles his bangs and smiles. “I’m sure Will doesn’t mind. Have a good day, be safe, don’t get lost.”

Will hears the door shut behind Lalna from the kitchen, and looks up from the toaster when he hears Xephos’ footsteps approach. “What was that?”

Xephos pours himself some tea and heads to the bookshelf to pull out a recipe book from between an ancient looking Grimoire and a seventy-fifth edition of _Incantations and You_. “What was what?” he asks. While one hand flips through pages of recipes, the other traces runes on the countertop in the marmalade from his toast. The runes are for a heating charm that Xephos seems to be writing by memory to warm his cup back up.

Watching steam begin to rise spontaneously from the cup, Will thinks of the tug he felt on the magic that thrums at his centre constantly, and shakes his head. “Nothing, nevermind. What are you looking for?” he says with a nod toward the cookbook

Over his shoulder, Xephos glances at him. “Ever had a Thanksgiving, William?”

That was certainly not what he was expecting. “Uh, the harvest--I mean, my mother and father would fill our plates come harvest, but I don’t think the word ‘Thanksgiving’ was ever used.”

“Good,” Xephos says with a thrill, clapping his hands together. “Neither have I.”

Before Will can have the good sense to escape somewhere, Xephos grabs him by the wrist and draws him closer, while the other hand sketches runes in the air. Will looks over his shoulder to watch a spark travel from the tip of his uncle’s finger to light the gas stove. “I suppose I’m helping you, am I?”

The witch grins at him. “Of course you are. You’re my errand boy today.”

“Awesome,” Will groans.

\-----------

It hadn’t taken long for Uncle Xephos to groan, drag his thin fingers down his long face, and whine at Will about “forgetting the turnips” and “my foolish, charming husband” and “son of a bitch, I told that boy to get me gouda, and he gets me _feta_. _Feta_ , William!” 

After Xephos’ third circuit of the kitchen’s central island countertop, Will had emphatically interrupted the man’s stream of consciousness rant with, “Would you like me to go out and fetch some of these things, Uncle Xephos?”

The relief on the witch’s face had been all too transparent. “Oh, William, that would be lovely. I’ve got to get the turkey in the oven in half an hour; I can’t charm away e. coli! I’ll write you up a list right now, just give me a second.”

Will took that as a cue and made for the foyer, pulling a slate grey pea-coat around his shoulder, slipping his sunglasses on top of his head. He took the list and some money and small trinkets from Xephos when he offered them, looking over the relatively long list with a cocked eyebrow. “You sure that’s everything?” he asked, mostly sarcastic but knowing that Xephos could be as thorough as he liked and still miss several important points.

“Should be everything, yes. Use the money for mortal vendors, trinkets for the fae, and don’t take anything more than what you agree upon.” Will nodded at him absently, pulling the front door wide and making his exit when Xephos had snatched his wrist and tried to pull him back. “Hey now, you can’t leave just yet,” he said gently, bringing his hands up to cup Will’s face, his lips already puckered in a kiss.

Will drew a sharp breath and ducked, taking two, three hasty steps until he was outside the threshold. “Bye, Uncle Xephos!” he’d said quickly, already pulling the door shut behind him.

“Have a good day, be safe!” Xephos shouted after him, “Don’t get--” And the door shut tight.

Lifting his sunglasses off his head, Will runs a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath in, the cool, crisp city air in his lungs, and steps off the stoop, the heartbeat of the city wracking in his ribs the moment his heels hit the cement sidewalk. He takes another look at the list, and flips it over to find more writing on the back. Xephos had given him a very specific list of vendors to which he should take his patronage, and Will honestly had _every_ intention of sticking to it.

Which is why it surprises him when he finds himself in front of a familiar greenhouse, despite having accessed the GPS’s on at least twenty phones to make sure he was taking the right route. 

He’d learned quickly that before noon and between one o’clock in the afternoon and three-thirty were the easiest times for him to travel. The drone of quarterly profit information and sales projection data through the power lines around him was easier to ignore than the thumping, screeching sounds of the city in its rush for home. Since his first afternoon out on the streets had ended in an absolutely draining experience, he’d been careful to avoid times of high traffic, but the siren call of feet beating the pavement of the city streets like so many steps of a particularly determined marching band still shook him to his core, and more often than not Uncle Honeydew had called him down from the attic to stop him from pacing. But he hadn’t been out in rush hour long enough for his feet to drag him back to Kirin’s unmarked little greenhouse again.

Until now.

A little bell jingles above his head, and he feels again as if he were stepping right out of the city and directly into the heart of a vast, darkened forest. The biting, autumn city wind stops at the door, and Will lets it shut behind him. The enchantments of the shop’s walls seals back up with the door, encasing him with a stifling magic like humidity in the rainforest. “Uh, hello?” he calls hesitantly, rubbing his upper arms from the temperature change.

The immense, bearded man appears at the back of the shop, ducking to pass through the door from the greenhouse proper into the front area. He smiles, broad and warm as the shop itself, when he sees Will. “Mr. Strife. It’s good to see you back again. You seem better than before.”

“You remember me?” Will asks, fiddling with his coat collar to break Kirin’s intense eye contact.

The man laughs, huge and filling the greenhouse, but not maliciously. Will doesn’t think Kirin could have a malicious bone in his body. “It’s hard to forget the man who stumbled into your shop looking like he’d just had a vampire at his neck!” he says fondly, and he eyes sparkle when he adds, “And I never forget a face. Not a face like yours.”

Will’s cheeks warm. He blames the cold. “I’m looking for a few things. Uncle Xephos is having a get-together this evening and forgot a few necessary items.” The information seems important as he says it, but as he shuts his mouth after speaking it, he wonders why.

“A get-together, is he?” There’s something strange about Kirin’s inflection as he turns to put a thick apron on, holding the neck-loop far over his head strangely before settling it down and tying the strings around his waist. “I’m offended he didn’t invite me.” 

“Should he have?” Will asks. It’s a strange sensation, but Will feels distinctly like a door had been opened, wide and waiting for him to step through, though he doesn’t have a clue what’s on the other side. Will opens his mouth to extend the polite invitation, but Kirin seems to think better of it, hastily cuts him off before he can get the words out with a quick shake of his head and a fond smile. 

He takes the list out of Will’s hands. “Nevermind that. What does he need here...”

“I think you have a few of the things he asked for, rowan branches and bark, enchanted chamomile, and, uh...” he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, and looks up. “You wouldn’t happen to have any parsnips or squash, would you?”

There’s a moment where Kirin eyes him steadily, taking him in. Then he lets out a small chuckle, and hands the list back. “Not that your uncle would want, I’m afraid. Better to get those at a proper grocery store.”

“Why?” Will asks, watching Kirin rummage around the shop for the things he needs. “Are they, like, enchanted or charmed or something? Would they give me luck or misfortune if I ate them wrong?”

Kirin smiles over a shoulder as he pours dried leaves into a small tin. “I’ve got one that would make you grow a third eye, but,” he says idly as he straightens, his expression hardening, “that one would run you a fairly steep price for me to give it away.”

When he smiles again, Will chuckles with him and ignores the shivers that run up his spine to see how quickly his expression changes.

“So, are you looking forward to this dinner Xephos has planned?” Kirin asks, separating branches of rowan and testing them to see how they bend. 

Will shrugs. “I... I dunno. I haven’t been in the city long, and I know he’s just trying to make me feel welcome, but I--” He sighs, running his hands through his hair, then drops them. “I don’t know. I guess so. It’ll be nice to see Aunt Lomadia again.”

Kirin looks up, almost startled, yet looking somehow pleased. “Lomadia is your aunt. Of course, how could I forget that she and Xephos were married once before.”

“Yeah, I haven’t seen her in ages, though. Definitely not since he married Honeydew.”

Humming, Kirin walks towards the counter with his arms full of the items Will asked for. “Yes. That was a wonderful ceremony, once of the most blessed rituals I’ve seen performed.”

“You were there?”

“Ah, not in a, um. Not in an official capacity. No, I heard tell and saw pictures. I stopped by to pay my respects, but left before anyone saw me. Figured it wasn’t my place.” Kirin pushes the items toward Will. “There you are.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Will checks the small assortment of items Kirin has foisted onto him from Xephos’ list, and finds a small paper bag of tea that smells of herbs and flowers and nothing like the chamomile he has in a tin. “What’s this?”

“A balm for your headaches.” Will cuts his eyes to the blue of the shopkeep’s, which sharpen as they’re met. “You’re not quite the enigma you hope you are,” he says, irises flaring with something like mirth. Will thinks he might be being laughed at, but Kirin leans away from him to start ringing his purchases up in the ancient register. “Technomancy can be rough when you’re in the heart of the city, especially if you’re not used to it. With the proper attention and focus, the headaches will ease.” There it is again, the strange cadence to Kirin’s voice as he speaks, like there’s a second meaning Will should be understanding, but can’t reach far enough to grasp. And just like last time, Kirin puts that conversation on hold as easy as hanging a coat by the door. “It doubles as a soother of anxieties. Consider it a service, I’ll only need repayment for the rest; you might need something to wind down after one of Xephos’ feasts.”

The magic of the greenhouse pulls and niggles at him, like needy fingers anchoring in his clothes, but he can’t figure out what incantation could possibly have prompted it. He digs in his pockets to find the pouch full of small favours Xephos gave him as he left. “How much?” he asks, rooting through the pouch for the threshold coins and pocket-sized copies of family photos.

Kirin grins, reaches a hand out to slide past Will’s and picks out a dented penny that fell out of the brownstone’s threshold shortly after he arrived. In the shopkeep’s fingers, the coin shimmers and vibrates with all the magic it contains from years spent reinforcing the barriers that protect Xephos and Honeydew’s household. The sheen around it flares and dissipates, Kirin sighing and flexing his fingers experimentally after dropping the coin back into the pouch. He’s still grinning. “That will do nicely. We can work out any outstanding debt later.”

The phrase worries at his skin like an uncomfortable fabric, but he nods and gathers his items and makes for the door, reaching for the handle just as it’s pulled out of his reach.

The door pulls open, and a shorter figure stands there, their long hair pulled back in a low ponytail. They startle, then grin. “Afternoon,” they say, high and posh as hell. Their eyes meet Will’s, glassy and yet so sharp, and he feels like they’ve trapped him in molasses.

“Good afternoon,” he manages finally, and continues moving past him. A stench like mildew and rotten earth makes him sneeze. As the door closes behind him, before he’s swallowed up by the growing din of the city streets, he hears a few words like “let him get away again” and “such a tasty morsel.” Then the door shuts, the magic seals him out, and his ears are filled with engines, blinkers and voices hailing cabs. He glances back down at the list Xephos gave him, and heads in the direction of the local grocer’s for the last few items.

\------

“Uncle Xephos?” Will calls as he shoulders the door open, brown paper grocery bags stacked in his arms, a separate bag hanging off his arm of the items he picked up from Kirin. He closes the door carefully behind him, setting a bag down to lock it and feeling the iron slide into place and complete the circle once more, the house instantly feeling warmer around him, absolutely no sound leaking in through the walls or windows. 

Absently, he brushes his fingers along the iron of the locking mechanism, the metals imbued with more magical leverage than they would normally thanks to Honeydew’s personal brand. It feels like protection and family. “I’m in the kitchen, Will! Come help Lalna with the quiche, he’s shit at it!” He draws his fingers away like he’s been burned, startled, grabbing the bag he put down with too much haste and watching a handful of carrots topple to the floor.

“Oh, my _God_ , I’m doing my best!” Lalna complains loudly as Will enters the kitchen with the groceries, earning distracted thanks from Xephos at the stove. “It’s not my fault your directions are so damn convoluted,” he pouts quietly. Xephos turns around long enough to smack him upside his head with a spatula.

Will picks up the recipe book he saw Xephos pull out this morning and takes a look at the page its open to, the recipe mostly incomprehensible to him. Throw a ritual at him, he can decipher it, no problem. Cooking? Baking? That’s an entirely different sort of magic. “Uh,” he stalls, fiddling with the pages, “is there anything else I can do? I think I might actually make something like this worse.”

Xephos hums. “Honeydew will be home shortly, so I suppose now’s as good a time as any to set the table. We’ll need to pull the extras up from the basement though.” He puts the turkey baster and spatula down, wiping his hands on an apron and stepping away to take ingredients and utensils from Lalna’s hands. “Go be a good lad and help your cousin bring the tables up,” he says gently, reaching a hand up to pat Lalna’s cheek. It earns him an exasperated groan, but the blond man pushes away from the counter and makes a gesture for Will to follow him as he passes. “Grab the nice tablecloths and silverware while you’re down there, please and thank you!”

“Got it!” Lalna calls, rubbing at his head where Xephos had hit him.

They descend the stairs and Lalna leads him to a storage closet that looks more like a largely unused basement office. “How many people are going to be showing up tonight?” Will asks idly when he sees Lalna reach in and drag three smaller tables out from the detritus of the room.

Lalna shrugs. “As many as Dad can get to show up, usually. He does this sort of thing for Christmas time too, but bigger.”

“ _Bigger_?” Will asks incredulously. “That doesn’t seem possible.”

“You don’t know your uncle very well, then,” Lalna says with a fond grin, then grunts. “Give us a hand, here. This one’s heavier than it looks, and a bugger to get through the door.”

They manage to haul one table up and through the doorway to the basement with some direction from Xephos, and make their way back down the stairs for the second. “So, you call him ‘dad’?” Will tries to ask as delicately as possible. It feels awkward to bring up, especially after wondering since he showed up on Xephos and Honeydew’s doorstep.

Lalna laughs as Will helps him move things off the second table. “Yeah, that was a bit of an accident, really.” He stalls to think, holding a box that looks like it’s filled to the brim with scrapbooks that he was moving, scrawled on the front with Xephos’ neat and tidy handwriting. “I guess it was about twelve, maybe fifteen months after he animated us? It just slipped out at breakfast while I wasn’t thinking.” He snorts, moving again to set the box down safely, dragging his fingertips across the top of it.

It takes him a second, but Will chuckles, leaning against the table. “How much did Uncle Xephos cry?”

“You _do_ know your uncle,” Lalna says, and they laugh together as they haul the second table up the stairs like the first.

Xephos peers out to see if they need help again, and raises an eyebrow at their mirth. “What are you boys doing that’s so funny down there?”

“Knowledge test!” Lalna says from the dining room, setting the table down at the other end of the regular dining table as they put the first. “Will’s smarter than he looks!”

Will has a moment to feel indignant before Xephos yells back, “Of course he is, Lalna! Technomancy is not a simple art, he’s got to have a brain on him somewhere.”

He turns to offer Lalna a smug grin, laughing at his exaggerated pout. “S’no fun when you get all praise-y,” he grouses.

“You know what _is_ fun, Lalna?” Something in his father’s voice makes Lalna groan loudly.

“ _What_?”

“Helping me chop vegetables. Tell your cousin where to find the tablecloths and good cutlery and come help your father with dinner.”

Will waves him off when Lalna turns with his mouth open. “No worries, I think I saw them while I was down there. Go help him, or he’ll nag.”

Lalna points at him as enters the kitchen. “Score two for Strife,” he says, bringing his other fist up to his mouth like a microphone, putting on an exaggerated announcer’s voice, “he’s really on a roll now, folks! Will he anticipate Honeydew singing at the dinner table? Tune in to find out!”

“Lalna!” Xephos chides, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him further into the kitchen. “I want to make this a nice dinner for Will, I’m not going to enchant anything, but I am seriously beginning to consider enchanting your arse into gear, mister.”

Will chuckles to himself as he descends the stairs for the third time, finding his prizes among the rubble of the storage room, and finding his final trip up the stairs much less agonizing without having to manhandle an awkward table up them. He listens to the bickering in the kitchen, feels his chest tighten, and focuses on laying the tablecloths out without wrinkles or uneven edges. 

In the foyer, the door swings open, and the entire house seems to sigh with relief at having the last of its brood home. “Evening, family!” Honeydew calls, his voice ringing.

“Hey, Pops!” Lalna calls absently, still chopping.

“Welcome home, Honey,” Xephos says, wiping his hands on his apron while walking to greet him. He stops at the threshold for the dining room to point at the table vaguely. “Oh, don’t forget to set a place for Lalna as well, William” he says quickly, bending to kiss Honeydew sweetly. Will looks back over his shoulder at his uncle in confusion. Of course Lalna would be there, where else would he be going?

A thought strikes him as he gets back to work, leaving Xephos to chat quietly with Honeydew. He gathers what he can of the fine cutlery, finding it horribly mismatched as he struggles to find matching forks and knives to lay out fetchingly, then asks, as idly as he can, “Would he be going to Aunt Lomadia’s for dinner normally? Or, uh... how does custody work with Lalna?”

From the foyer, Will hears Xephos splutter wildly, and Honeydew laughs long and loud and raucous in the cramped brownstone. Coughing, Xephos takes a few steps backward to peer at him in the dining room. “I’m sorry?”

It’s immediately clear to him that he’s misstepped, but Will’s not sure where he went wrong with such a simple question. He’s sure his face is on fire. “I-I just... I was wondering if maybe you and Aunt Lomadia had joint custody or something? I know you parted amicably so I thought--”

Honeydew’s still laughing as he steps past Xephos and fully into the dining room to grab Will’s hand and pat the back of it, trying to catch his breath. “Cor, you’re a sweet lad, William, but dear _Gods_ , don’t let Lomadia hear you call her that, Christ.” He shakes his head with a smile on his face, and whispers, “Aunt Lomadia, _that_ is rich,” as he heads back for the kitchen.

“What?” Will looks desperately at Xephos, his eyes feeling wide and frightened. “What did I miss? I thought you and Aunt Lomadia were on good terms, did she not--”

Xephos steps forward, coughing to--poorly--conceal his laughter, and rests a heavy hand on Will’s shoulder. “No, no, it’s nothing like that. She just... You only met her once, right? When we went out to visit your parents out in the country?” Will nods, and Xephos mirrors the action, still chuckling. “Yes, well. Lomadia is a very lovely woman--a singularly gifted witch, all my qualms about her methods aside--but she would _not_ appreciate the title, believe me. Your Uncle Honeydew? Loves it. He was made for family. I was made for family. Lomadia? Maybe someday, but certainly not without her okay first.” When he looks to find Will still confused, he sighs and pats his shoulder as he turns for the kitchen. “Just trust me on this one, William.”

Will stands stock still for a moment, takes a deep breath, and sighs loudly. Lalna leans around the door from the kitchen to grin wildly at him, until one of his parents chastises him. “Okay then,” he says, drawing the syllables out, divvying up cutlery, “how many places _am_ I setting?”

“Well, there’s the four of us,” Honeydew starts.

“And I’ve invited Lomadia, which means Nilesy’s certainly coming, Lord knows that poor boy hardly knows how to feed himself, even living with Lom,” Xephos adds, clicking his tongue afterwards as he opens the oven to baste the turkey once.

Lalna stops the sounds of his chopping to gesture with the knife as he says, “Didn’t you say Nano was going to show up with hers?”

“Lalna, please do not brandish a knife and speak at the same time,” Xephos says with concern. Will moves to stand in the doorway, watching the little family move around the kitchen together. “Yes, I invited the dryad, I got Will to go out and get the rowan to make a charm out of--speaking of which,” he interrupts himself in bringing a small spoonful of the cheaty, store-bought packet gravy to his lips, reaching out to cup Honeydew’s cheek as he passes, “would you be my precious gem and weave that for me? I’ve about three other dishes I still need to start in on, and I haven’t had the time to show Will how to do it.”

The dwarf passes him on the way out of the kitchen, patting him on his arm as he does. “When you’re done with the table, lad, I can show you. It’s not hard, I can even do it with my stubby fingers, you should be able to pick it up quick.”

The awkwardness has lifted, and Will swallows around the lump in his throat, willing it to go away. “I’m mostly done here, I just need to lay out the plates and napkins. Why don’t you show me now?”

Honeydew smiles, hands on his hips. “Eager lad. Well, follow me then. Grab the branches on your way by.”

They sit across from each other on the couch, each holding three pliable branches of rowan sapling in their hands. “Just braid them?” Will asks a little skeptically.

“Yep, that’s about it. Xephos always natters on about _intention_ or some bother, but I suspect this is more symbolic than actual charm.” He shrugs, tapping Will’s fingers to pull the branches tighter together. “But that could just be my dwarfish nature.”

“You’re a geomancy professor at the university, right?”

The dwarf nods, pulling out strips of bark and knotting them carefully, showing Will each time and making sure he nods in understanding. “Been working there for near enough three decades. S’good work they do there, a lot of other dwarvish kids out there learning the good magics.” Honeydew brandishes the bark at him. “This is where you come in, chum. Just a simple rune for friend, right over the knot.”

“U-uh, right. Yeah, sure,” Will mutters, cupping the bark in one hand and tracing the air around it with another.

“Then you just have to tie the bark on at cardinal points, and Bob’s your other uncle.” He watches Will focus on getting the bark tied on right, arranging the knots perfectly, then he rubs at his arm gently. “William, you don’t have to be nervous.”

“Nervous?” Will asks sharply. “Who’s nervous?”

Honeydew chuckles at him. “You are, kid. Just take a deep breath and let it all go, I promise none of our friends bite, and Xephos will simmer his sweet self down just as soon as the sun rises tomorrow.” He drops his stubby hand to pat his knee on the couch. “You’ll do fine, Will, no one’s expecting you to do anything but be here with us.”

The couch creaks as Honeydew hops off it and heads for the kitchen, and Will finds himself having to think very carefully about setting the charm on the coffee table so he doesn’t ruin what they worked on. He swallows at the lump, then pushes off the couch, grabbing the charm and carrying it with him to finish setting the table.

Honeydew strolls past the oven to grab a step stool so he can wash his hands in the sink, but halts mid-step in front of the oven window. Bending only slightly, the dwarf peers in past the glass, reaching up over the stove surface to flick the light on inside. “Xephos, darling,” he says charmingly, catching Will’s attention with his honeyed tone.

“Yes, Honey?”

“My sweet little pipecleaner, may I ask what the _fuck_ this is?”

Xephos turns from the counter where he’s chopping turnips and carrots to lay around the casserole that the bird is in, taking in the dwarf carefully. “It’s a turkey, Honeydew,” he says with sweet fondness, dropping the paring knife and wiping his hands on his apron before walking toward the oven. “I told you earlier, I’m not skimping on tradition, Will is here and he’s not had a proper Thanksgiving probably ever, and--”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, but, schnookums, you know I love you, but what the _fuck_ did you do to the _bloody_ bird!?” Honeydew practically screams, having reached up to drag the taller witch down to his level. He manhandles Xephos’ head until he’s forced to look through the window at his work. “This is bullshit!”

“I _flipped_ the bloody bird, Gemstone, what do you want from me!?” Xephos cries frantically, gesturing between his husband and the oven. “I’m trying to make us dinner and you--”

“You _flipped_. The bloody _bird_ ; are you _mad_?” Honeydew yells back, letting Xephos stand back to his full height and grabbing the step stool so he can meet the man’s gaze. Xephos starts yelling back over him, and the kitchen is a din when Will feels Lalna brush up beside him, the sound of the toilet flushing behind him.

"Are they always like this?" He asks quietly, his arms crossed protectively over his chest like that will protect him from whatever fallout may come of this lovers’ spat.

Lalna shrugs. "Pretty much. Just wait till they kiss and make up, that’s even more revolting,” he says offhandedly as he pats Will on the shoulder without looking, stepping into the kitchen to pick up the utensils Xephos had dropped in order to bicker with his husband. “Welcome to the family, cuz.”

The threshold of the house is broken once more as the door opens to allow visitors inside out of the cold. “Hello?” calls a voice experimentally. “I smell delicious food, so Xephos must be in here somewhere.”

The two of them immediately stop bickering, and Xephos steps out from the kitchen. “Lomadia! Welcome, welcome! Come on in, I trust you found somewhere to lock the bike up this time?”

Will sticks his head out of the kitchen to get a better look at the aunt he hasn’t seen since she and Xephos split--however ambiguously--ten years earlier. She laughs, full and clipped. “Gods, no. I’m not having a repeat of last Christmas, Xeph, it took us _ages_ to get it down from the roof, and the Trash Heap wouldn’t stop heckling us about it for weeks into the new year.” She shakes her blonde head, leaning in to kiss him on both cheeks. “Nah, we took a cab this year.” She smiles softly at him, reaching out the hand that isn’t cradling a tall, thin paper bag to stroke his cheek. “Hello, by the way.” Her voice is full with a depth of emotion that Will feels intrusive hearing.

“Hello there.” Will can’t see his face, but he can hear the smile in Xephos’ voice. “You brought the wine, then? You didn’t forget?”

“As if you would ever _let_ me forget.”

“Where’s Nilesy? We’re going to have far too much squash if he’s not here to eat most of it.”

Nilesy tumbles in and shuts the door behind him, the seal of wholesome magic strengthening with the new arrivals. “I was paying the cabbie; ‘lo all! I brought a log of alder for the hearth.”

“Should do nicely, thank you, Nilesy,” Honeydew says, having brushed past Will to hug the new arrivals and accept welcoming kisses from both of them, “don’t listen to anything my husband says about the benefits of spruce over alder in the winter; as long as it burns, we’re happy to have it.”

Xephos opens his mouth to object, but is barreled over by Lalna. “Nilesy! I was waiting for you to get here, can you take a look at the runes I etched into one of my constructions for class? They’re supposed to prevent overheating and decomp, but they’re not working right.”

Lomadia tugs on his ponytail. “Some hello from you, mister.”

“Hi, Lomadia, how are your plants doing? The same? Great! Can Nilesy look at my runes now?”

She laughs, patting him on the head, and watches the two of them wander off until her eyes alight on Will. “There he is,” she says, her voice measured and careful, fully aware of the imposing figure she cuts. “Hello, Will. You alright? S’been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

He fidgets for a short moment before Xephos beckons him forward with a wave of his hand. Will steps toward the foyer, careful to keep his distance. “Nice to see you again, Au--I mean, uh, Lomadia.” He digs his hands in his pockets, feels Honeydew pat him comfortingly on the back.

“Just Lomadia will do,” she says with an easy smile. She turns to Xephos. “Well, we’re not going to stand here all evening, are we? Show me in, we’ll sit and chat, then I’ll let you get back to fretting in the kitchen.”

Xephos makes a few undignified noises, but follows Lomadia into the living room to drop onto the couch with familiar ease while Honeydew takes their wine into the kitchen to find a corkscrew.

Will’s left standing on his own, again, flustered by the closeness of utter strangers in his life. The house suddenly feels _too_ warm, cloying and over-scented with the smell of turkey and sweetened cranberries, squash, quiche, and cheese baking in mashed potatoes. All he can hear are the sounds of the home, Nilesy and Lalna talking animatedly in Lalna’s room upstairs, Honeydew clanking around in the drawers of the kitchen, Lomadia and Xephos speaking in hushed, close tones in the living room, the magic of company and familiarity emphasising the break between it and his own. He feels disconnected and adrift. 

He rubs at his temples, a current running under his skin, and makes for the bathroom. He shuts the door behind him, dulling the sounds of family, and splashes water on his face. He looks in the mirror to find his face flushed, his eyes distant. Will sighs heavily, cutting his eyes to the window and giving in to the impulse to lift it open. The cool autumn air bites his skin, but with it comes the sound of cars, the rhythmic beeping of crosswalk indicators, the buzz that comes from the streetlights turning on. There’s a hum that comes from the telephone wires that resonates with his magic, the thrum calming in a way no incense could achieve.

Taking a deep breath, he closes the lid of the toilet seat and sits on it heavily, running his hands quickly through his hair. He feels more grounded for the smell of crisp city air in his lungs, and shuts the window before more cold leaks in. As soon as the window frame hits the sill, the sound of the city is shut out, silenced with finality.

Abruptly, the threshold seal breaks again, and Will assumes the voice he’ll hear is female, Nano’s. Instead, he hears Lalna call out, “Hello, family!” from the front door.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Will points towards the living room. “Your parents and Lomadia are in there talking. Where’s Nilesy?”

Lalna smiles, tucking a bottle of wine under his arm. “Oh, Lom and Nilesy are here already? I hope we’re not too late.”

“Lalna...” Will starts, slowly, wary of a shapeshifter or skinwalker. He eyes Lalna’s feet inside the threshold, and wonders what glamoured being Xephos and Honeydew would invite into their home that looked exactly like their Lalna.

Lalna looks up from taking off his jacket, setting it on the hooks by the door, a pink windbreaker next to an identical one in green. He opens his mouth, but he’s interrupted by a voice from behind Will.

“Oh, hey, the dryad and her homunculus are here! Dad!”

Will turns slowly at Lalna’s voice coming from behind him, the dissonance of looking at him and hearing him speak from somewhere out of sight making his head hurt. At the foot of the stairs is Lalna, again, with Nilesy standing a step up. Bringing a hand up to his temple, Will takes a step to the side, taking in both Lalnas at once. “What?” is all he can manage.

“Excuse me!” says someone from outside. “Would a resident of this lovely abode kindly invite me in already?! It looks like it’s about ready to start snowing and I will _not_ be outside when that starts.”

The Lalna from the stairs walks past the Lalna in the foyer with an absent, “Oh, right. Come on in, Nano.” He closes and locks the door behind the smaller wood sprite, keeping the warmth inside. “Honeydew and Will made you the rowan charm, if you’ve got your oak sprigs,” he mentions, and both Lalnas turn to look at him expectantly. The one who was speaking prompts him, “Can you go grab it, Will?”

He feels vaguely as though he’s been turned to stone. His mind runs over flashes of conversation, something about Nano showing up with “hers”, Lalna talking about Xephos animating “us”. He brings a hand up to his forehead and runs it down his face. If he’s honest with himself, it doesn’t surprise him that Xephos couldn’t stop at just one homunculus. “Uh, yeah, sorry. It’s, uh. It’s in the dining room. I-I’ll go grab it, just give me a second.” Gracelessly, he trips out of the foyer to where he had left the charm after they’d made it.

The steps that follow him in as he retrieves the braid of twigs and bark put him on edge, but he turns around to find Nilesy smiling sheepishly. “Hey, sorry there. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s, uh. It’s nothing. Just not looking forward to another surprise just yet.”

Nilesy laughs, and it’s a sweet sound that Will appreciates hearing. He feels himself relax around him, just as foreign in this house as Will feels. “Yeah, they can be a bit of a shock on first meeting. Gave me a good fright when I was introduced to them, they’re rotten when they put their heads together.”

“One is bad enough on his own, Uncle Xephos had to go and make two of them?” Will asks, a bit bitterly, but Nilesy just laughs again.

“Yep. You get used to them, though. I can even tell them apart now, most days!”

Will fiddles with the charm, staring at his fingers. “Yeah, used to them.”

Nilesy considers him carefully for a moment, then beckons him toward the kitchen. “Come on, kiddo. You’re having a glass of wine with me.”

He splutters, nearly dropping Nano’s charm as he follows. “I’m only 20! And I have to get this to Nano,” he protests.

A scoff. “Drinking age, schminking age, dear William; a glass of wine with me won’t hurt a thing. And never you mind about the charm, it just means Nano won’t be able to consume anything until she gets it. She’ll not hurt you too badly if you take a little detour, or she’ll send a Lalna if she gets very impatient.”

Will tries not to linger on the qualifier on the amount of pain he’ll endure for harbouring the charm longer than he should, but he accepts the glass Nilesy hands to him, quick to find them in their cupboard. He doles out the red, being very generous with their glasses, before raising his and brandishing it at him. 

“To family get-togethers, and all the discomforts that come with them,” he proposes.

That startles a laugh out of him, and he touches the rim of his glass to Nilesy’s. “I can drink to that,” he mutters, and they drink. The red Lomadia brought for them is sharp, high and fruity in his mouth as he swallows. He’s never had wine before, but he thinks maybe this is really good. He can’t be sure. He sets his glass back down and plays with the base, running his finger around the ridge. A certain bag of tea wanders through Will’s mind, and he wonders if it would be very conspicuous to make himself a cup before dinner.

Nilesy sighs. “Alright, Mister Chattypants,” he says obnoxiously, and Will startles to look at him. “Honestly, I bring you in here and ply you with alcohol, and you’re still not telling me what’s wrong. With anyone else, this is foolproof.” Nilesy leans his long, gangly body over the counter, bending his head into Will’s cast-down vision. “What’s up?”

It’s easy and friendly, and blissfully free of the niggling worry that comes with conversations with fae. Will decides that he really likes Nilesy, despite the fact that he’s known Nilesy for maybe an hour at best. “Just... this whole thing is a bit--it’s a bit weird, right? My uncles are great, my cousin--cousins? Does--” he sputters, takes a quick breath, and continues, “whatever, they’re all great, there’s nothing wrong with them, but I feel a little bit out of my depth.” He takes another sip of wine, and it goes down smoother this time. He eyes his glass, and says, “I should probably be drinking that tea I got, but... well, I guess it’s too late now.”

“I have this tea that works wonders, it is _literally_ magic, William. Calms me right down when I’m all wound up, like a bloody charm, because it is literally a charm.” He grins, and Will finds it catching. “I could bring you some sometime, if you wanted.”

Will has a sneaking suspicion, and wanders to the cupboard where he stowed his purchases from Kirin’s greenhouse and he pulls out the tea bag. He opens it for Nilesy to smell. “Like this?”

The other man takes a sniff, then nods vigorously. “Yeah! That’s it, that’s the one! You go to Kirin’s shop too?”

“Sort of. I kind of just... end up there.”

Nilesy shakes his head, inhales the tea again. “Lomadia hates him, I don’t know why. He seems like a genuinely nice guy, but she won’t even let me burn his incense.” He pouts, playing with the edge of the bag, and mutters, “It smells like evergreen and it’s lovely.”

The idea of Lomadia hating anything without a reason seems foreign to Will. “She does? That seems... well, if it were anyone else I would say _wrong_ , but what I remember of her as a kid tells me that maybe that’s not the smartest plan.”

“Too right,” Nilesy says with a chuckle, taps his glass against Will’s and takes a sip. “Honestly, though. How bad can a guy _realistically_ be though, for real. She’s _got_ to be overreacting.”

“Who about what?” Xephos asks as he steps into the kitchen behind them, picking up oven mitts from beside the stove and slipping them on, his apron still on from before.

“Oh, just Lomadia’s hate-on for Kiri--” Nilesy starts, when he’s interrupted by a flash of oven mitt being pressed to his mouth, muffling the rest.

Will stares at his uncle, incredulous. “Uncle Xephos?”

Carefully, slowly, Xephos lifts his mitt away, holding the other over his mouth like a single finger. “We do _not_ say the full name in this house. Euphemisms and epithets are fine, but not his name.”

“ _Why_?” Will asks.

“Say his name and he _knows_. Honey and I have worked _very_ hard on keeping that threshold firm, and I intend to preserve it, High Fae or no.”

“Wh-What about just the first part?” Nilesy asks, making a small gesture with his fingers, “Just the ‘k’ part?”

Xephos makes a face. “That one’s fine, as I understand it, but I’d prefer if you didn’t. This isn’t his space and I will _not_ have his influence in it.”

There’s a tinkling of charms, and the dryad appears at the door of the kitchen, Will’s eyes drawn to the anklet of charm coins, quartz and preserved oak leaves that clinks when she walks. “I’ve got oak twigs, where is the urchin who failed to bring me my rowan crown?” Nano demands with hands on her hips.

Traitorously, Nilesy points at Will. “I told him to bring it to you, Nano, I did, but he dragged me in here and made me imbibe the alcohols, he’s a monster!”

He thinks maybe he should feel more betrayed, but before Will can call Nilesy out, Nano walks forward and reaches up to smack Nilesy’s arm. “I’d smack your head, but I can’t reach it, so imagine your arm is the back of your head.” She smacks him again for good measure, and he whines loudly. Turning to Will, she jerks her thumb at the whimpering witch. “Get a load of this guy, right?” she mutters just loud enough for Nilesy to hear and pout about.

“Alright, alright, you’re all very cute, but unless you’re ready to help me put dinner together, get the hell out!” Xephos reprimands, making shooing gestures with his oven mitts. Nilesy steps forward, his mouth open to offer his help, but Xephos holds up a mitt. “No, no thank you, Nilesy, but I remember last Christmas far too well. You can help clear the table afterward.”

The three of them exit the kitchen, Nano and Will laughing at Nilesy’s exaggerated pout and grabby hands towards the cheesy mashed potatoes being pulled out of the oven. “Oh, Nilesy,” the dryad laments, heavy with understanding. “As if Xephos would let your grubby little fingers anywhere near his food until it was all plated to perfection!”

He pouts harder, scrunching up his nose and squinting his eyes. “Whatever, what’s plating worth a damn anyway, it’s just gonna get messed up when we shove it all into our mouths...”

Nano rolls her eyes at him, and holds a hand out to Will. “Crown please!” she says simply.

Will hands it over without issue. “Your ladyship,” he says, bowing a little as he does.

They enter the living room and Nano stops to take him in properly. After what seems like an arbitrary amount of time, she points at who Will _thinks_ is her Lalna, if only by his exasperated expression. “You should take notes, dumbo. This is how you should treat be treating a bloody dryad, alright?”

The Lalna scoffs. “No way. I’ve smelled your farts, nothing that rancid could come out of a dignified lady of _any_ court.”

“Rude!” Nano accuses, sitting heavily on that Lalna’s lap. He makes noises that sound like protests, but his hands settle around her middle easily.

Lomadia looks over from her conversation with Honeydew, eyeing Will still standing at the entrance to the living room. “Come on in and have a seat, kiddo,” she says, patting on the couch beside her. “I promise, none of us bite but Nano, and even then she only does it if you ask.”

“According to Lalna, anyway,” says Nilesy with a grin like a cat’s, and the Lalna under Nano makes more inscrutable protesting sounds.

He sits, gripping the glass of wine like a lifeline, as the conversations pick back up around him. It’s a din of friendly energy around him, and although it’s everywhere, it feels like he’s in the eye of its storm. He sips gently at the drink, occupying himself, until a tiny dryad comes to sit next to him.

“Thanks for helping Honeydew with the charm, Will,” she says with a smile, warmth like a spring day in her expression. The crown rests gently on her hair, unseasonal blossoms sprouting from the oak twigs by her temples. “Xephos has been having him do it the past few times I’ve been over for meals and it’s just not the same with his magic. Xephos’ charms are always big, heady things that suffocate me. This one feels like a breath of fresh air.”

Will fiddles with his glass again at the praise, cuts to a different topic. “Nilesy said it lets you eat the food.”

She hums at him, grabbing her own glass of near-purple wine and settling back into the couch beside him. “Sort of, but not everything. As with... just about _everything_ Nilesy tries to explain. He’s quite gifted, but it’s all that savant sort of stuff. Innate knowledge and all that. Poor bugger doesn’t understand half the things he learns, just reflex casts spells.” 

She sips at her wine, and beckons for Will to lean back into the couch with her. It’s plush and lush as anything in Xephos and Honeydew’s household, and it feels like a bit like a giant pillow as he presses into it. “The charm has the magic of the threshold woven into it with the branches and bark, using the wood as a conduit. There’s boring representational stuff in there, but the gist of it is it lets me eat without having to ask the homeowners permission for each bite, and absolves me of indebted favours in either direction. I don’t owe Xephos for a roof and a meal, and he doesn’t have to worry about any deals I might try to strike in his company.” She snorts into her glass. “Not that that’s exactly a worry, anyway, it’s frightfully rude to try and bargain or pact when under hospitality laws, but...” She stills for a moment, then shrugs idly. “Xeph is nothing if not a bit overcareful, and he’s stopped making a fuss about me and Lal, so I take the charm for his peace of mind than anything else.”

There’s crashing from the kitchen, and Xephos swears, long and loud, before claiming everything to be fine. Nano looks up at him with a _look_ on her face, and Will nods to her. “Probably for the best.”

She laughs, tipping their glasses together to make a soft chime. “You get it.” They drink, and Will finds the wine tastes sweeter. “So, mage-boy,” she intones with forced casual air, “I hear you came to the city for your technomancy. They don’t have that out where you’re from?”

Will grins. “Nope.” He stops himself, blinks, then look at her honestly. “Well, okay, that’s not entirely accurate; they _do_ , but I was just at a level where being so far from a leyline was actually becoming detrimental.” He sips at his wine, contemplating a confession and feeling the alcohol bolster the idea to share. “You know, I used to live here with my parents? Uncle Xephos and my father used to work together, but I started getting sick and my mother decided to move out into the country.”

“Sick?” Nano asks, sitting up a bit to look at him properly.

“Yeah, Ley Fever. It’s rare, but some babies are just born more susceptible to leylines and their draw. They get... sort of washed out of their bodies if they’re not taken care of by neonatal biomancers early on.” He swirls the wine around in its glass. “Some kids grow out of it, some get lost. Others come to rely on the leylines.”

He feels her eyes on him shift over his face, until she suddenly throws herself back into the cushions. “Blimey.” She taps her glass to his. “Cheers to dependency, then. You’ve made this get-together far more interesting than it would have been otherwise.” She downs what’s left of her wine, looking at the empty glass with a pout. “Hang on _just_ a tick, William. I’ve got to rope a Lalna into getting me more wine.” When he makes a sound of confusion at the missing definite article, she stands and turns to walk backwards while winking at him. “Watch and learn, dear,” she whispers, backing up towards the Lalna that is _probably_ not hers.

She twirls back and drops herself unceremoniously into a Lalna’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Lal, do us a favour and grab me some more wine?” she asks sweetly, running her hand over his cheek and down the line of his jaw.

“N-Nano--” the Lalna starts, just as the one across the room pipes up, “Oi!”

She looks confused for a moment, her expression exaggerated as she looks between the Lalnas. “Oh, did I grab the wrong one?”

The Lalna under her blushes. “Yes, Nano, you have _the wrong one_. You do this _every_ time you come over! It’s not funny!”

“Oh, but when you react like this it _so_ is!” she says with a giggle, tapping a finger on his nose.

Suddenly, there’s more crashing from the kitchen, louder this time, and all the heads in the living room swivel toward the noise. Honeydew fairly launches himself out of his seat to check the fuss.

“Honeydew, you stay right where you are!” Xephos calls, and Honeydew freezes comically in his dash for the kitchen. “Everything’s fine, it’s all just fine. Stay and drink and chat. Lalna?” Identical blond heads in the living room shoot up. “Could you help me lay out the table, please?”

The Lalna under Nano looks across the coffee table at hers, gently slipping Nano off his lap to look at him properly. For a moment, neither of them moves after that, only looking each other in the eye. Will makes to stand and help his uncle, but Nano makes a motion for him to sit back down. “Wait,” she whispers at him, watching his reaction carefully as he looks back at the two Lalnas.

Simultaneously, they both raise closed fists at each other and place them in their opposite palm. “Rock, paper, scissors!” they mutter quietly, lifting and pressing their fists back into their hands until Nano’s Lalna presents scissors and the other shows rock. “Best two out of three!” the loser insists, his voice raising out of a whisper.

“Lalnae!” Honeydew bellows, drawing himself out of his conversation with Lomadia. “ _One_ of you boys better go help your mother in the kitchen, or I shall get _very_ cross!”

Nano steps aside to let her Lalna past so he can slump off to the kitchen, but not before she presses her wine glass into his hand with a wink. “While you’re up?” she asks sweetly, and he takes off with the glass grudgingly. She slips back across to sit in the spot he just vacated, covering her mouth while she laughs. 

Will settles back in his seat, bewildered. He catches their Lalna looking at him with laughter in his eyes. “Do you ever tie multiple rounds in a row?” he asks eventually, when he finally thinks of something to say.

Lalna shrugs. “We did in the beginning, when he lived here with us for a bit. After he moved out and met Nano, we tied less. Now it’s rare that we end up out in the same outfit anymore--we used to do all the time.”

Nilesy groans. “I’m glad that’s stopped now, I was about to bloody lose my mind. I still get you two mixed up sometimes, even with the laces!”

“Laces?” Will asks, looking at Lalna’s shoes in the foyer from his seat.

“Nano’s Lalna wears pink laces on all his shoes, our’s wears green,” Honeydew says, gesturing with his mug of ale. “That was my idea, when I kindly informed my lovely husband that perhaps, though we of course have no trouble telling our sons apart, the same could not be said of our friends.” He takes a swig, and shakes his head. “The thought had literally never occurred to him. He just assumed everyone could tell them apart easily, the bugger.”

“And you guys are... comfortable? With him and Nano?” he asks, trying to be polite with the dryad sitting near-by.

His tact does him no good. “Ex _cuse_ me, William. You have known me and my Lalna for all of a few hours. I’ll have you know I am a _very_ trustworthy fae.”

Lomadia snorts into her ale. “There’s a great horny beast out there who uses a _remarkably_ similar line, Nano; have you been taking notes?”

Quick to dispel the frost as it creeps into the room between them, Honeydew holds out placating hands. “Hospitality rules are in effect, ladies, remember? No bickering and squabbling, you know what that does to poor Xephos.” He swivels to pat Will on the shoulder as he explains, “No, no, lad. We trust Lalna. We do _not_ trust Nano. But he’s a grown man, and he was made that way intentionally. We wouldn’t have put them together if we didn’t want them to have all the free will as any other mortal being.”

“Plus,” the Lalna still in the room says, around a swallow of wine, “she’s too scared of Dad to try anything. That, and she likes Lalna a bunch.”

“Look, copycat, don’t go besmirching my good faerie name outside this threshold, you hear me? There’s a certain circle of Badness out there that would _never_ let me live it down.”

Nilesy pipes up about the business that Lalna and Nano run for witches like himself and Lomadia, but Will’s eyes rest on the Lalna he’s known since he moved into the city, watching his face move as he talks with his family. When he laughs, his eyes crinkle at the corners like Honeydew’s, and he rolls his eyes like Xephos. Will thinks about how much of his personality is his own, how much is osmosis, and how much of themselves Xephos and Honeydew gave to him in their creation. Cutting his eyes to Nano, he wonders how much of her he’d see in the Lalna in the kitchen with his father, how much his uncles see of her in the son they made for themselves.

“Alright, friends, soup’s on!” Xephos calls from the dining room, interrupting Will’s thoughts.

As the guests make their way from the living room to the dining room, he and Lalna finish laying out the dishes fetchingly on the table. The turkey sits, carved of most of its meat and arranged on a platter, in the middle of the table, surrounded by candles burning with runes etched into them for togetherness, blessings, and trust at the table. There’s roasted turnips and carrots done with maple syrup, mashed potatoes creamed with cheese and garlic and chives, squash with nutmeg and cracked pepper, various buttered vegetables and a basket of warmed bread on either side of the turkey’s centrepiece, steam rising pleasantly off of everything and filling the dining room with all their pleasant aromas. The window looking out on the street and the rest of the city fogs up as guests and family find their seats around the table. Will takes a spot to Xephos’ right, Nano in the next spot with her Lalna beside her. Lomadia takes the head of the table opposite Xephos instead of Honeydew, Nilesy to her right with Honeydew and Lalna beside him taking up the last two seats.

Xephos’ eyes warm as he takes them all in, and he offers his hands out to Lalna and Will. “Now, before we eat; a blessing.” Everyone at the table clasps hands, Will reaching out to touch Nano on her shoulder to complete the ring and seal the magic. It hums through his fingers from Xephos, skimming through his veins and nerves to reach into Nano, connecting all of them. “By this rite we are bound; by this meal, friends. Let no grudge be born, nor grievance harboured at this table. No sadness shall sour the taste, and no loneliness shall shake our bones. By hearth we are protected, but by each other we are saved. Let us eat.” The last blessing is repeated by each voice, and Xephos drops their hands, the magic releasing them.

Will takes his seat, and the dining room fills with the scraping of utensils on plates, and the same comfortable conversation as was being had in the living room, but somehow warmer and more inviting.

“Nilesy, could you pass me the potatoes? There’s a good lad.”

“Are these utensils silver or iron? I don’t want to burn myself--Lalna, grab that ladle, tell me if it’ll hurt me.”

“Nano do you have the salt and pepper? I’ll trade you for cranberry sauce.”

“Who wants the asparagus when I’m done?”

“Xephos, the turkey is delicious, as usual. You must use something on it to keep it so moist, it’s ridiculous.”

“Honeydew, please, at least _one_ vegetable on your plate. For the sake of my health, if not yours.”

“Is that broccoli casserole? _Please_ give Lomadia the recipe, this stuff is to die for!”

Will startles when Xephos places a hand on his. “William, sweetheart, are you alright?” Will doesn’t answer but looks probably a bit like a deer in the headlights, and Xephos gestures to his empty plate. “Have some food. Rest assured I’m not a terrible cook.”

Biting his lip and swallowing around the awkwardness that chokes him, he reaches out to heap some turnips and carrots on his plate, then some turkey breast. “Sorry,” he mutters, catching Xephos as he smiles a little sadly out of the corner of his eye. His uncle sighs, before looking across the table to make eyes at Honeydew.

“Ooh, I didn’t get any peas!” Nano says in advance of her fork slipping under Will’s arm reaching across the table for mashed potatoes to steal some of the peas he’s started shovelling onto his plate.

“Hey!”

She grins and slips them into her mouth. “Snooze, you lose!” she says simply, turning to nick a slice of turkey off Lalna’s plate beside her while he’s not looking.

Will watches as Lalna smacks her hand and gets her to grab him some turkey to replace it, sees Honeydew eye her carefully as she gives it back, the subtle nod she gives the dwarf as he turns back to his ale. Soon he’s yelling at Xephos across the table about how delicious the food is, while Lomadia is chiding the Lalna of the house in his bad manners as he lets gravy dribble down his chin and he sheepishly grins while mopping it up with a napkin. That choking feeling wells up in him again, and he smothers it in food and wine and rambling about his home in the country when he’s prompted.

“So, what, you just don’t do as much magic out there?” Nilesy asks, waving his fork around and getting a smack from Lomadia for it.

He shrugs. “There’s magic, sure. Just not the leylines or the wellsprings to power big magic like you have here. Technomancy is essentially unheard of, that’s why Mom and Dad sent me here to Uncle Xephos’ when I started goofing around with the powerlines.”

The Lalnae perk up, and the one across from him grins. “Goofing around?” he asks, and Will smirks back at him.

Xephos sighs, placing his forehead in one hand and raising his glass of wine with the other. “I still have about eight different numbers for that landline, and your mother is _still_ looking for talented electricians to right your wrongs, young man. I hope you haven’t gotten up to any more of that nonsense while you’ve been here.”

Will shakes his head, still grinning. “Nah, I’ve been having much more fun with confidential business emails and police scanners.”

His uncle reaches out with the hand from his forehead to wrap Will’s wrist in a deathgrip, and the table erupts into laughter as Xephos looks up with an expression of terror. “Tell me you haven’t,” he begs, but Will’s laughing too hard to make any promises.

When the platters are mostly cleared and the utensils have long been down, Nilesy stands and immediately begins to gather the plates and dinnerware. “Oh, Nilesy you don’t have to do that, dear,” Xephos says, his voice fretful. “Sit back down, Lalna can do it.”

The Lalnae have their hands in fists out on the table for another round of Rock, Paper, Scissors almost immediately, but Nilesy makes a waving gesture with his hand. “Don’t worry about it, Xeph, you said I could earlier, remember? Consider it repayment for such an excessive meal; honestly, I could just hibernate after this.”

“Let me help you,” Will offers, standing with his plate and Nano’s.

Xephos makes a fond tutting noise with his tongue, patting Will’s hand. “There’s a good lad, thank you, Will. I’m sure _one_ of my Lalnas would be happy to lend their hands as well?” he says, phrasing it as a question as he casts his eyes between both of them. “Isn’t that right, boys?”

There are two loud thumps from under the table, and Honeydew smiles broadly. “Of _course_ they would, sweetheart. You know our boys,” and he draws the Lalna beside him down so he can ruffle his hair out of its ponytail, “they’re just so _eager_ to help out.”

“Alright, alright!” Lomadia says, chuckling. “You’re laying it on a little thick there, you two. Let the dishes be handled, come join me in the living room. Nilesy will get us tea in between dishes.”

“I will? I mean, yes, of course I will.”

Nano waves her fingers at them. “Have fun, boys!”

The kitchen isn’t very large, but it’s big enough for the four of them to move around with little negotiation, and the Lalnas have a synchronicity of movement that makes the drying and putting away process of the dishes nearly-automated. Nilesy takes on the role of dishwasher, while Will volunteers to put his organizational skills to good use putting the leftovers away in the fridge while the kettle boils on the stove for tea.

It all goes quickly once they start moving. There’s only one incident of Nilesy breaking out a towel whip, which Will cleverly avoids in stowing different dishes in the fridge with mismatched tupperware lids and an overabundance of saran wrap. The kettle boils, and Will grabs it and pours the boiling water into a teapot with some of the teabags from over the oven. His eyes cut to the bag of tea he got from Kirin, and he ponders about making a cup before finding that he certainly doesn’t need it right now. 

“I’m gonna take this into the living room, are we almost done in here?” he asks, teapot and hot plate in hand.

The Lalnas both nod. “Yeah, we’re good in here. I can tell him where the rest of it goes, we’ll be in there shortly.”

Nilesy fills his arms with mugs and follows Will out of the kitchen.

In the living room, a fire is roaring in its place, crackling with heat and the smell of home. Conversation is quieter than at the dinner table; everything is hushed, no one is talking over each other, and Will subconsciously dims the lights to let the shifting flames from the fireplace illuminate the faces around him.

Eventually, the Lalna with his arm around Nano glances at his watch and rouses her from where she’s drowning in the sound of Honeydew’s voice telling one of his many epic tales. “Store’s gotta be open in eight hours, Nano. Might be a good idea to head home so we can get some rest,” he says quietly, smiling at Xephos’ concerned expression.

Nano nods, sitting up slowly. “Yeah, you might be right. I think I’ve been away from the tree for long enough, she’ll be getting restless.”

“Speaking of restless,” Lomadia says with a glance cast at Nilesy curled up with the other Lalna in a loveseat, “I expect Mr. Cat to have destroyed at least one of our cushions by now, if their kibble is all gone.”

Xephos sighs deeply, hauling himself out of a great armchair by the fire with a huge frown. “I do suppose it’s been long enough. I hate to see everyone leave, it’s the worst part about these things.”

Will chuckles when Honeydew looks up at him with exasperation in his eyes, saying, “The poor man would adopt the entire world if it would let him, his motherly instincts are nothing to be trifled with.”

“Have you called a taxi already? I’m sure William could have one on its way in a hurry, if you’d like,” Xephos offers, gesturing at Will, who merely nods enthusiastically to show his willingness to help.

Lomadia shakes her head. “Not to worry, I called one before we sat down for tea. Should be outside in just a moment.”

The guests grab their things from the foyer, Xephos offering to grab everyone’s coats and scarves from the closet and doling them out with thank you’s and goodbye’s.

“Well then, take care, Lomadia,” he says, cupping her face and kissing her long and slow for a moment.

“And you the same, Xephos. Don’t go wearing yourself out.”

Nilesy steps forward, a smile on his face as Xephos drops his hands to the boy’s shoulders and kisses him on both cheeks. “And you, young man. Try not to cause Lomadia too much worry, I know she cares after you with all the ferocity of a mother bear.”

Tipping his hat, Nilesy steps back through the threshold when Lomadia opens the door. “Not to worry, Xephos. I’m the picture of careful, careful is my middle name, I’ve a cat named careful who does nothing but take care all the damn time!” He stumbles when he hits the steps, and Lomadia catches and chastises him as they wave goodbye to everyone inside and the door shuts.

Nano bundles back up into her jacket and takes the crown off, the flowers on it folded back up into buds when she hands it to Will. She winks at him. “Thanks for keeping me entertained this evening. I quite like having you around.” It sounds like danger, but Will only smiles and puts the crown on the dresser by the door.

Xephos wraps Lalna up in his scarf and jacket, tucking him in and pulling his winter hat down on his head. “Now, remember to be careful, please? I know you and Nano work with some less-than-savoury folks at your shop, and I worry about you--”

“And call us more often, boy!” Honeydew says, drawing Lalna down into a hug. “You give your father and I such stress when you don’t call us!”

Lalna groans, and the other Lalna laughs with Will over his hunch in order to hug his father. “Yeah, yeah, I will, I promise. It’s not like I’m leaving for another country, I’m just a couple blocks away. I’m not even over the freeway.”

He straightens, and Xephos grabs his face carefully. “I know, Lalna. Knowing doesn’t help us missing you.” He leans in and presses a long, enduring kiss to Lalna’s forehead, then another two to his cheeks that last a tad bit longer than they usually do. “I can only do so much to protect you when I hardly ever see you,” he mutters.

“Not to worry, Xephos,” Nano says, accepting his brief hug with grace. “I’ll take care of your boy, and if anything happens to him, you can blame me.”

Honeydew holds the door open for them as they step out into the cold. “Oh, you can count on it, missy!” he yells after them, and she makes a face as they walk away that he shuts the door on. The door closes and the house feels almost silent for having lost its guests, but the circle of the hearth’s magic fills Will with a comfort despite it. 

He rubs his arms as the house absorbs the cold air from outside, and Honeydew pats him on the back before making for the stairs. “Well, folks, I’m knackered. I could genuinely use a little bit of sleep to settle all that food I ate,” he says, rubbing his stomach with his other hand. “I’ll see you upstairs, sapphire?”

Xephos steps forward and kisses him while cupping his face, smiling huge and warm and satisfied. “Of course. You tuck in and I’ll see you up there once I’m done down here.” He sends Honeydew up the stairs with a loving pat on his rear, Will trying to hide his quiet hysterics when he turns halfway up the stairs with a finger over his puckered lips, a cheeky expression on his face.

“Gods, you two are disgusting after you’ve had company over,” Lalna grouses. Will passes him to go through the living room and pick up from the tea, grabbing the tray and the mugs and carrying them into the kitchen. 

“I know, sweetheart, but I promise tomorrow will go back to me yelling at your father for leaving his tools out in the living room, just like regular.” Xephos cups his son’s face, running his fingers over the young man’s carved cheekbones with reverence. “I love you very much, and I’m very thankful to have met you,” he says quietly, kissing those cheekbones then his lips chastely.

“Met me? Dad, please, as if you didn’t spend years with Honeydad researching how to build us.”

There’s a heavy silence where Will moves into the kitchen to put mugs in the dishwasher, but not before he hears the pat of Xephos’ hands on Lalna’s cheeks, and a whispered, “Doesn’t make the day I met you any less special, my sweet. You were all desperately wanted, and your father and I treasure you deeply.”

“I know, Dad,” Lalna whispers back, and Will putzes around the kitchen with a lump in his throat. There’s awkward coughing from the stairs, and Lalna raises his voice to say, “So, do you want me to help you with the wards?”

“No, no. That’s quite alright, Lalna, I’ll be teaching Will tonight.”

Will pokes his head out of the kitchen. “Uh, you will?”

Xephos scoffs. “Of course. You’ve been here a few weeks already and I’ve not gone over it with you. I might as well show you sometime, in case I’m out on business and your uncle isn’t here to do it for me.” He turns and makes a shooing gesture at Lalna. “Go on, go sleep. We’ll handle it.”

He hesitates with a foot on the bottom step, but Lalna shrugs eventually. “Alright. G’night, Dad. Night, Will.”

They bid him off, and Xephos gestures at the door, beckoning Will over. “I’ll actually be quite happy to have you around to do it for me. I love my husband deeply, but dwarvish runes still don’t feel right to me. It’s not that they’re any less effective, but I’d like to place any failure on magic I understand.

“We start here,” he says. He holds his hands out over the doorknob, then jerks his head to have Will do the same. “First, we reimbue the iron of the bolt and the cradle, since its connection has been broken so many times tonight. To leave it to entropy is to let the threshold rot. Invitation becomes moot, because the threshold means nothing anymore.” He speaks with a soft reverence for the magics of house and home, and Will feels himself listening, rapt. Following along feels less like being directed, and more as though the years of repeated ritual alone were guiding him. “The iron is hand crafted by Honeydew, a special iron alloy that holds magic better, longer than traditional metals. It’s not perfect, though, and it means that even if it burns the fae that touch it, it may also leech their magic to compensate.” Xephos draws runes in the air around the metal of the knob. If Will concentrates hard enough, he can cut through nature’s glamour to see the runes hanging in iridescent light in the air under his uncle’s fingers.

“Then the hearth, the easiest part of the home to corrupt and purify,” Xephos says as he straightens in front of the door, making for the living room. “Then we make sure the windows are part of the circle, and we burn a yule log through the night, to let the smoke annex the foreign natures in the house. We wake to a home smelling of lovely ash, purified of its corruption by guests, and we may go about our day without fear of a broken threshold or hearth.”

It’s as if Xephos is merely talking to himself, and Will happens to be there to listen. It’s all by rote, an incantation memorized so thoroughly it becomes second nature. Will steps to the windows in the living room, in the dining room, the window he opened in the bathroom, and runs his hands over the runes he can feel burning in the glass, watching them carefully as they flare into and out of existence with every blink.

When he comes to lean against the doorjamb of the living room, he watches Xephos stand from lighting the yule log with a slow burning flame, flickering blue briefly as his uncle walks away from it. “Come on, William. It’s time for bed.”

He walks Will up the stairs, down the hall, and to the foot of the steps that carry him into the attic. He plants a foot on the bottom when he feels Xephos lean in, pulling away on instinct and pinching his eyes shut from the embarrassment.

“Goodnight, Will--”

“Uncle Xephos?” he asks, quickly so that he can’t reconsider.

“Y-yes?”

“Why did you teach me all that? I-I mean...” he fumbles for words, turning and taking his foot off the step. “You know that these same warding rituals are standard out in the country, right? My mother and father had me perform them at home all the time. A family member has to preserve the threshold or the entire home is at risk. I knew all that already. But...”

That lump that’s been there all night chokes him again, and Xephos waits patiently for him to swallow it once more. When he doesn’t, he shakes his head fondly. “William, please don’t tell me you think it wouldn’t work if you did it. Don’t break my heart like that.”

His breath hitches, and he turns for the stairs again. “Sorry, I-uh... I’ll just--”

“William Strife,” Xephos says sternly, and when Will turns again, Xephos is close enough to plant his hands firmly on Will’s shoulders and hold him there. His sharp blue eyes look into Will’s green ones, a wellspring of honesty. “You are a member of this household, you are my nephew, and you are _family_ , young man.” 

His hands shift up to cup Will’s cheeks, and the force of the eye-contact is enough to make his skin shiver. Or he thinks it’s the eye contact, until he feels the shivers coming from his core, from the magic he feels inside him being drawn to Xephos’ own. “You are as much my son as Lalna is, William,” Xephos says quietly, and he leans in, pressing his lips first to Will’s forehead, then to his right cheek, and finally to his left. “You are part of this family, you hear me?”

The skin on his face tingles, stronger magic than any parting charm rippling through his skin from Xephos’ fingers. Belatedly, he nods.

“I need to hear you say it, Will. I can call you family all I want, but family goes both ways. I will protect you to my dying breath, William, but only if you ask me to.”

The lump in his throat rises, rises higher than it has all day, but when he swallows it down again, he feels it dissolve. He breathes in deep like its the first time, and he smiles at his uncle. “I-I’m family.” It feels weak, sounds weaker, and if he were carving the words into the magic of the house, they would slide off the walls like water on wax paper. “I’m part of your family. You’re my family, Xephos.”

Before he can register the shifting of the house around him, the way the wood paneling and wallpaper all seem to relax with a gentle sigh around him, Xephos draws him into a bone crushing hug, bringing William’s head into his shoulder with a gentle hand threaded in the back of his hair. “Yes, I am. I’m your Uncle Xephos, and this is Home, William.”

Will brings his arms up around Xephos’ back, fists his hands in his shirt, and draws himself closer, into the warmth his uncle always seems to radiate. He stays like that for a moment, Xephos scratching his head and patting his back, then pulls away carefully. “We should get to sleep. I’m sure Uncle Honeydew is waiting.”

“Yes. Yes, we probably should.” He leans in once more, kissing Will on his forehead, and pats his cheek. “Goodnight, William. I will see you with the sun tomorrow.”

Will nods, turning for the steps. “Goodnight, Uncle Xephos. With the sun, tomorrow.” He climbs up into the attic, lifting the door once he hears the floorboards creaking under Xephos’ moving weight. He pushes up into his room, and feels the call of the city almost immediately. 

The cars running along the street outside his window sing a lullaby to him, the gentle roar of airplanes through the night sky making him sleepy with their distant travel. He peels out of his dinner clothes and climbs into a chunky sweater that falls off a shoulder, and crawls under his covers. Before he nestles in, he reaches out a hand to run along the sill of the window above the head of his bed, and feels the heat of runes within it.

He tucks the covers under his chin, and drifts into dreams of hearth and home and circles of magic older than time itself, and of families that he never felt like he had. Around him, the house sighs, settling in the cool autumn air, all four welcome occupants safe within it.


End file.
